


The Consequences of Love

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Clean Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock trying to gather his courage and tell John his true feelings. John being able to read the book of Sherlock and know what is coming along. Pure fluff. Funny fluff (I hope).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Consequences of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of fun and fluff.

Sherlock sat stoically in his chair. His hands steepled below his chin. His eyes fixed on John in the chair opposite him. Hesitation haunting him. 

John sat comfortably in his chair. Reading a medical journal that kept his attention for nearly half an hour now.

 _What to do?_ Thought Sherlock. These feelings were obviously not going away. Would giving them voice help or hinder? Would it even make any difference in how they just seamlessly ‘worked’ so well together? Sherlock could not now imagine his world without John Watson in it.

“You know I sense your eyes devouring me.” John states as he looks up at Sherlock. “Something stuck in that Mind Palace of yours or are you just happy to see me?”

This elicits the slight crooked smile that only John could bring to Sherlock’s lips.

“It must be something pretty profound. Shall we consider using our inside words?”

John was being funny. Over the years he always sensed Sherlock’s mood, easily using the right approach to conquer the demons of doubt.

“You are the better part of me...” Sherlock began. His words springing forth unbidden.

“We make an unbeatable team.” John ventured. His smile beamed with pride. His eyes alight with affection. 

“I have feelings.” Sherlock blurted out. Scandalized at his bluntness and relieved at the truth being told. “I have feelings, that center on you.”

“Not news to me.” John sat straighter in his chair. His journal forgotten. “We care deeply for each other. You are closer to me than my own sister. I have feelings for you too.”

Sherlock takes a deep breath, he reaches across the small divide between the two of them. His long arms letting his large hand come to rest on John cheek. Gently, he stroked the skin below John’s midnight blue eye. 

“So not familial feelings then.” John didn’t flinch or move away from Sherlock’s touch. He couldn’t mistake the love in that skin to skin contact. John searched Sherlock’s face. He saw fear and anxiety there. John caressed the hand Sherlock held to his face. Warming Sherlock with the radiance of his adoring smile.

“I wondered if this day would ever come.” John spoke in his softest voice. Intimate.

Sherlock made to withdraw his hand, but John would not allow that. 

Holding Sherlock’s hand, John moved from his comfortable chair onto the floor. Onto the rug between Sherlock’s knees.

“Now you’ve done it.” John is unapologetic as he rests his forehead on Sherlock’s.

“What have I done?” Sherlock’s heart melts as his blue/green/gold eyes blaze with something John’s known was there all along. 

“You’ve taken that first step. You’ve let me enter the gate. Pull down the walls. There’s no going back, you know.” John is adamant about that information.

“What will you do now that you have breached the Mind Palace?” Sherlock’s hand is trembling and it thrills John’s senses.

Sherlock is no machine, he is a tsunami of human emotions.

John rests his hands comfortably on Sherlock’s thighs. His fingers flexing in the posh material of Sherlock’s pants.

“Why I think I will make myself at home.” John said without guile.

“The Palace has always been your home, John.” Sherlock states quickly. “You presence is everywhere. You are the foundation and the fixtures. The vaulted ceilings and the mysterious catacombs. Without you, it is a haunted place. Lifeless and devoid of all meaning.”

Bringing his lips to John’s. He places a chaste kiss there. 

“Sweetheart, you damn well can do better than that.” John pushes forward his demanding kiss is stunning and perfect and overwhelming.

“John.” Sherlock says his name like a sacred sound, too precious to be uttered by any other tongue in human history.

“John.” Sherlock closes his eyes, reveling in the taste and touch of the man he has loved from afar for far too long.

John gathers Sherlock in his arms, the larger man fits perfectly in his strong embrace. 

John stands and pulls Sherlock up. 

“I have every confidence in you, John Watson. Whatever comes our way, we will prevail.”

“Speaking of prevailing. All this touching and tasting has awakened a certain hunger in me.” John presses against Sherlock. There is John’s appetite, strong and hard as a rock. 

Sherlock is aroused himself. The hunger in John’s eyes is so evident that Sherlock wants to offer himself up to whatever gods there may be in thanks for this revelation.

“Should we retire to the bedroom?” Sherlock asks.

“I don’t believe we will make it that far.” John admits.

(-_-)

They do find the couch to be the next best thing. Though it leaves some tell-tale spots that really aren’t going to wash out easily.

Then they move to Sherlock’s bedroom. Sliding into the heavy thread count linens. John encircling Sherlock with his body.

“How do you do that?” Sherlock asks.

“What love?” John isn’t sure what the question pertains to.

“You are all around me, yet I feel totally comfortable and I don’t sense any stress in you. How can you totally engulf me without being discomforted yourself?

“Practice, practice, practice.” John replies as Sherlock kisses the smile off his face.

“There will be no more practicing unless it is performed on me.” Sherlock has his jealous on.

“I can totally arrange that.” John acknowledges. “I can focus on you for the rest of forever.”

Sherlock snuggles in. He is lost in his own ocean of feelings; washing up on John’s hot sandy shore.

 _Who knew he was such a cuddler?_ John thought, as he stroked the riot of luxurious curls that begged for his touch.

“Promise me...” Sherlock begins.

“Anything and everything your heart desires.” John answers immediately.

“I give you the key to my Mind Palace.” He states as he places his right hand over John’s heart. John covers this hand with his. “Promise me where ever you roam, that you’ll always come back to it. Always.”

“Easy enough to do, love.” John lifts Sherlock’s hand and kisses the palm. Sealing the promise with a kiss.

“You know that this is going to be a hot mess, but it will be our hot mess and we’ll muddle through it.” John assures him. 

(-_-)

Their relationship is a hot mess, but it is their hot mess and they really are finding new and exciting ways to explore and satisfy each other. They have never been happier and, of course, every Yarder at NSY knows that the two love birds are inseparable, finding exhilaration, even in the midst of the murder spree by one of London’s legally challenged serial murderers.

(-_-)

It had been a long race to catch the killer. Sherlock had slipped and fallen on the filthy surface of a disreputable alleyway. John had bolstered him back up on his feet and they had caught the bad guy with time to spare. Later, as they unlocked the door to 221B and heaved themselves inside, closing the world and the work outside. It is time to decompress.

“You look like shite.” John says as he removes his coat with finger tips. Hoping to not further contaminate his body with any of the questionable substances that cocoons his coat.

Dropping his coat in a bin Mrs. Hudson had placed at the foot of the stairs, just for these types of situations. 

“You know the drill. Strip and leave the evidence of our sordid night out in the bin.” John directs Sherlock.

Sherlock huffs and delicately, gingerly removes his Belstaff. It isn’t damaged but the cleaners would be livid about the soilage. 

“Yes, Mother Hudson must be obeyed.” Sherlock is close to giggles. Then he happens to get a glance of himself in the hall mirror. “Jesus, John. You should never let me out in public in this condition.”

“Was that you haring off after the killer? Was that you not waiting for me, the man with the gun?”

Unabashedly, Sherlock’s crooked smile emerges. “You are MY man with a gun.” He removes his suit coat and drenched pants. Throwing them toward the bin and missing.

John smacks Sherlock’s bubble buttock to propel him up the stairs.

Sherlock squeaks and hops up the stairs two at a time to get ahead of any future small strong hands administering swats to his backside.

John shakes his head and takes a long deep breath as he runs his hands through his ever graying hair. _It’s like herding wet cats with a toothpick,_ he thinks to himself.

As he mounts the stairs and enters the open sitting room door; he can hear the shower water making the ancient water pipes knock out their own rhythms.

“Coming?” The deep baritone voice beckons like a sirens song.

John divests himself of every stitch of clothing that still resides on his person in the speed of light. He enters the shower with flair, flinging the shower curtain wide as he jumps the bones and boner of his Consulting Lover. 

(-_-)

“I’ve never felt so...” Sherlock starts. As they both lay in his large comfortable bed.

“Shagged?” John suggests. “Sexy? Satiated?” John rolls on his side and throws himself over the totally relaxed consulting lover.

“So elated with the consequences of our love.” Sherlock says with a slight tremor in his beatific voice. 

John completely engulfs Sherlock. His strength, warmth and love quite evident. Words were not necessary between them. Words pale in the strength of their boundless, eternal love.


End file.
